


3...2...1

by JBGRiMm



Category: Original Work, Terra Nova
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:57:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBGRiMm/pseuds/JBGRiMm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its 2150, and the situation is desperate. With Terra Nova gone only one means of salvation remains for humanity. But can it possibly be successful?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

p>Chris walked with his head down, ears pricked for footsteps, bag slung over his shoulder. He sucked in a breath, coughing slightly at the metallic, greasy air. He grimaced, realizing it meant that the filtration system on his air mask had broken again. Not that it would matter if this worked.

If. That was the big question. If this worked. If this was a real escape, and not another trick, one made by the government to keep the population complacent as they lined their pockets and waited out extinction. But, Chris reasoned, if this was a trick, like Terra Nova had been, why all the secrecy? Terra Nova had been a global endeavor, whereas he'd literally fallen into this. So perhaps...

Chris looked up, and realized he'd reached the alley he'd been told to go to for departure. He glanced around, but aside from a few junkies dozing on the pavement, there was no one. He faced the alley, took another breath, and walked down it.

****

_He hadn't always been here._

_Before this Tenzin had lived in the ICD, the "Illegal Child Depository". Depository. As if they were trash. And considering how they were treated, they might as well have been. The food was stingily given, water was a cup a day, if that, and punishment was a confiscated air mask. He'd tried to help one of the girls, Rebecca, who's mask had been taken for something stupid-missing a patch of grease cleaning the kitchen. She'd sobbed and struggled when the guards pulled it off her face, but they'd beaten her back. At night, after everyone was asleep, he'd given her his mask, so she could breathe. But it hadn't been enough. She had had a sickness-atshma, and within a month she'd died. He prayed to the gods afterwards, and to the Buddha, that her spirit would be reincarnated soon, and in a happier form. Maybe even in Terra Nova. Someplace where the air was clear._

_It had been three months after that that he'd been waiting for his water ration, when three other boys had tried to steal it from him. They'd probably assumed that with his lean frame he'd be an easy victim._

_____When the guards had intervened all three were unconscious on the floor. The guards had approached, and he'd recognized one of them- he'd been the one who'd taken_ _Rebecca's mask. He had considered the repercussions in the span of time it took for the two guards to draw their nightsticks, and decided that he no longer cared. He struck, and caught the guard who'd taken her mask in the throat with a leopard's paw, just as his mother had taught him. His aim was direct, and  the_ _guard had died almost immediately. And then he'd sat down on the floor, and put his hands on his head, not even trying to defend himself as the blows rained down on him._

_At some point he'd lost consciousness. When he woke, it was in a detention cell. His mask was gone, and the air was rank with the smell of pollution and refuse. He waited patiently, and eventually five guards had come, and escorted him to one of the administrative rooms, one of the rooms with built in air-purifiers. He'd been forced-unecessarily, as he was not struggling into a chair and handcuffed to it. The guards stepped back, and another man entered the room. Tenzin almost didn't recognize him, but then he'd remembered-he was the Warden, the man in charge of the entire ICD. The Warden had taken a seat behind the desk, and looked at him with a sick, twisted smile._

_"Do you know why you're here?" asked The Warden, his voice light, joking._

_"I killed the guard," replied Tenzin._

_"Yes, yes you did. And why would you do that?" asked the Warden. Tenzin was tempted to be facetious, and list all the reasons he might have killed a guard- their cruelty, the horrible conditions, the injustice of the ICD. But Rebecca's memory deserved honesty._

_"He killed Rebecca."_

_"Who's Rebecca? Your girlfriend?" the Warden asked, the smile playing on his lips._

_"She was one of the children. She was thirteen. He took her mask, and she died."_

_"Ah," said the Warden. The Warden opened a drawer and took out a bottle of water, slowly taking a drink. Tenzin watched the clear liquid closely. He wasn't sure how long it had been since his last drink. The Warden slid his eyes to Tenzin's face, and finished his drink._

_"Would you like some water?" he'd asked. Tenzin had made no reply._

_"Tenzin," began the Warden " I have a problem. I need a new guard. I can't afford to hire a new one, otherwise people might start asking questions. So I think the best solution would be for you to take his place." he paused to gauge Tenzin's reaction, but seeing none, he continued._

_"You'd get food, and water, and you would be allowed to sleep in the climate-controlled quarters. And you could help stop other children from being harmed like Rebecca was." The Warden leaned over the desk, and looked Tenzin right in the eyes._

_"What do you say?"_

_Tenzin looked into the Wardens eyes, and saw nothing but lies in them._

_"No," said Tenzin._

_"What?" asked the Warden, the smile slipping from his face._

_"I would rather burn alive than become one of you," said Tenzin. For a moment the Warden's face was blank. Then it twisted into a hateful sneer._

_"Fine. Guards, beat him to death. Have the body shown to all the others, unless anyone else thinks of turning down our generous offer." The chair Tenzin was sitting in was thrown back violently, and the last clear view Tenzin had was of the smoggy sky through a skylight before the ring of guards and pain descended._

_****_

Chris stopped at the end of the alley. There it was, the steel door, just as they had said it would be. He walked up to it, and knocked twice, as he'd been instructed to. From a speaker mounted next to the door, a voice issued.

"Hold up your hand."

Chris held up his hand, on which was tattooed a five digit number- 00738 and a circle within a circle. The door clicked open, and Chris entered the building. 

The inside was a contrast to the outside. The building had been dark and filthy, but past the door was a large, well lit white room. The room was filled with seats, some of which were already occupied by other people, each one looking as nervous as he felt. He stood just past the door, unsure of what to do.

"Need some help?" said someone behind him. 

Chris turned, and saw that the speaker was a young Asian man, maybe twenty years old, who had a smile on his face.

"Yeah, I guess," said Chris, unsure of what to make of the man.

"Well come with me and we'll get you registered, and then you can relax until its time to board."

"Thanks," said Chris, relieved to be doing _something._

"What's you name?" asked the man, heading towards a desk.

"Christopher Delgado," said Chris.

"Glad to meet you. My name is Tenzin."

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_When Chris had been five years old, his father had locked him in the air-conditioning duct of their home._

_"Stay in there till you learn your lesson you little shit!" he'd yelled, kicking the grate and making the sound ring painfully around the metal space. Bruised and bleeding from a cut on his_ _forehead, Chris had just curled up and waited to be let out, hoping that after this his dad would go back to loving him again._

_That hadn't been the case._

_Every day it seemed his fathers anger grew. Whiskey replaced food in the small apartment, his dad shifted from job to job as he failed to hold one down, and Chris always bore the brunt of his aggression. He put up with the beatings, the lack of food, even a broken leg that a kindly neighbor had set after his dad refused to take Chris to a hospital. But being locked in the air-conditioning vents was the worst. Inside it was pitch black and to small even for his skinny frame. Inside he felt the smallness of the space and to him, it was as if the walls were closing in, crushing him. For hours, sometimes even days._

_Then his father had died. He'd been eleven. He'd been in school, trying to focus despite the painful cuts on his leg when the principal had come in and asked to speak with him. There, the woman had sat him down and told him gently that his father had died in a mag-lev accident._

_Chris had been speechless. Despite everything, he'd loved his father, but at the same time....what was he supposed to do now?_

_*****_

A buzzer sounded. Chris looked up from where he'd had his head tilted downwards. Around him more people had one in-about two thousand in all, both male and female, no one older than their late teens. None of them seemed to be particularly wealthy, most of them seemed underfed and had damaged air-masks or none at all. Most carried a bag of some kind, but the one thing that united all of them was the look on their face- half hopeful, half suspicious. 

Just like him.

"Okay, everybody, it's time!" One of the workers called out. "Everyone please walk in an orderly fashion through these doors here-" the woman gestured to a set of sliding metal doors "- and proceed until you reach the storage room. Please deposit your items in the drawer marked with the number you have on your hand. Once you have done that place your hand with the tattoo on the scan panel on the drawer. That will lock it and it will only be reopened by your handprint after the voyage. And once again, congratulations everyone. You're taking the first steps to a brand new life." She smiled, and then pushed a lever that opened the doors. As a group, the entire mass of people shouldered their bags and walked on through. They stepped through a stainless steel panel lit by lights along the floor. Above them tubes and pipes clanked in the gloom. Eventually they reached a brightly lit room outfitted with rows of dresser like drawers, made of metal. Chris walked through them until he found the one labeled 00738, on one of the top rows of lockers. Then he dropped his canvas knapsack to the ground and started removing his items. 

When he'd been briefed on the procedure, they'd stressed the importance of bringing as little as possible. Nothing alive could be brought, and food would not be needed, as they would be placed in cryogenic sleep for most of the journey. Clothing was going to be provided as well, as were tools, bedding, and toiletries. They were told to bring only personal items, and to cap them at three. Chris looked around. A Hispanic boy next to him was putting a set of rosary beads into his drawer, and a red-haired girl next to him was withdrawing a book-an honest, ancient hardcover- from a plastic trash bag. Chris turned back to his drawer and started placing his items in it.

First was a photo album. It was thin, and made of scuffed leather, but he remembered his mother telling him that it had belonged to her family for the last seventy years. She'd paid a little extra to have pictures of their family printed out and added to the book. Chris flipped through the pictures of long-dead ancestors and scenes of the world before pollution had destroyed it. And then there was his family- him an infant or toddler, his mother smiling, and his dad, before grief over his mothers death from lung cancer had driven him to anger. He placed it in the drawer. Next was his pillow. He knew bedding would be provided at the end of the trip, but still..its was HIS pillow. He'd had it forever, and he could never sleep without it. 

Last was his necklace. They'd classified jewelry as an additional item. He took off the necklace and looked at it. It was a simple steel chain with a medal the size of an antique quarter dollar, engraved with the image of a saint- Saint Jude. After his father had died, his neighbor had looked after him. He had been an old man, a former military doctor, and he'd lost his son in the Detroit Food Riots of 2137. He'd agreed to look after Chris until he turned 18, and he'd always been kind to him, if a little gruff and stern. But he was never cruel. On Chris's fourteenth birthday, the man had given him the medal, telling him that St. Jude was the patron Saint of Lost Causes. When Chris asked what that meant, he'd replied saying"The whole worlds a lost cause now. It's up to the saints and God now to save us. I pray that he keeps you safe." 

Chris smiled at the memory, and then grew sad, when he thought of the old man. He held up the medal to his mouth and whispered 

"You were right. He's saved me." 

Then he placed it on the drawer, along with the knapsack, and closed the door, doing the locking sequence. It beeped and then clicked shut, his handprint fixed on it. Satisfied, Chris turned and looked around, wondering what to do next. 

"Did you notice?" said a voice behind him.

Chris turned, to see the red-haired girl standing there, viewing everything with a critical eye.

"Notice what?" Chris asked.

"All our numbers were on the top row."

"So?"

"So, who gets the rest of the drawers?"

Chris thought about it, and then looked back at the room with new eyes. There were so many drawers, and the room, come to think of to, was huge.

"You think more people are coming?" 

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" she asked ", I mean, we're colonizing a new world. You gotta think they need more than a thousand teenagers."

"Huh, I guess," said Chris. "I'm Chris," he added.

"Sarah," said the girl. "How'd they find you?"

"Caught me stealing and offered me an option. You?"

"Pretty much the same," she replied " I got picked up right after I'd grabbed some air tights from a store, and They took me to Rebreathex instead."

"You leave anyone behind?" he asked.

"No one left to leave behind," she replied. "Did you?"

"Same as you," he said.

"Aren't we a pair?" she said sarcastically, and they both laughed. It felt good, tension relieving.

"Do you think everyones like us?" Chris asked.

"With no family and no options? It would make sense." Sarah replied. She looked nervous for the first time since he'd met her.

"Do you know what we do now?" she asked.

"I'm not really sure, I think after this we get one final health check and then they put us in the cryo-pods."

"And then we take a nap and wake up twelve years later," Sarah finished. 

"Yeah," Chris said. They stood in silence for a moment. Then another buzzer went off.

"Attention Refugees. Once you have finished placing your items in your drawer, please proceed to one of the three doors at the far end of the room in an orderly fashion. You will then be directed to the medical bay for a final check up before you are placed in cryo-sleep."

"I guess that answers your question," remarked Chris. Sarah nodded, but she still looked nervous. Secretly, Chris was nervous too. The prospect of being frozen alive for over a decade....terrifying enough, without even beginning to factor in his claustrophobia. He reached out and took her hand, a simple gesture of comfort.

"You're gonna be fine," he said. Sarah looked at him, and took a deep breath.

"Thank you," she said. She let go of his hand, and started for the doors, but then turned back.

"Find you after this?"

Chris smiled.

"See you tomorrow." Sarah smiled back, and then walked on through.

****

"Okay, your blood pressure is normal, your breathing is good, and your vitals are normal." The nurse smiled as she tapped  a section of her e-reader with a stylus. 

"Anything else I need to do?" asked Chris.

"No, you're done. Now just go have a seat out there and you'll be directed to your cryo-pod." She looked up at Chris, noticing the look of fear on his face.

"Don't worry, the procedure is entirely safe and painless," she said.

Chris nodded, but still looked stricken. He climbed off the exam table and headed out into the hallway, and was immediately accosted by another attendant.

"Hi, can I get your number?" he asked cheerfully. Chris held up his hand, which was inspected, and the man checked something on his e-reader.

"Alright, your pod is ready, I'll take you to it," he said, starting down the hall. Chris followed, panic setting in, settling in his stomach like a bad meal. He wasn't ready, he couldn't do this yet, wasn't ready...

They reached a large bay, with metal panels spaced at regular intervals along the walls all the way up to the ceiling, twenty get high. All along the bay other people were being helped into their bays. Chris saw a girl placing her outer clothes in a compartment under the panel before receiving an injection, further along he saw a boy laying back in a large box-like compartment before the lid was closed by and attendant and it was slid back into the wall. 

They finally stopped in front of a panel labeled 00738. Chris look at the other ones. Each panel had a little rectangular window in the middle. The one on his left was empty, but inside the one on his immediate left he saw the Hispanic boy from earlier, and right beyond that two attendant were closing up one of the compartments. Chris caught a glimpse of red hair-Sarah, he realized- before it was slid back into the wall. 

"Ok, if you could remove all of your outer clothing except for your underwear we can get started," said the attendant, pulling out the compartment. Chris removed his shirt and pants, his arms feeling leaden. 

"Ok, so what we do is give you a quick injection to stop your blood and spinal fluid from freezing, and then we switch on the cryonics and you're all set," said the attendant, not even looking up from his e-reader. He motioned for Chris to come forward, and produced a syringe from his pocket. Chris nervously put out his arm, and the man injected a clear substance into his shoulder. 

"Ok, thats done, now just lay down inside with your head facing outwards and we'll close you up," he said cheerfully. Chris stepped over the edge and into the box, heart pounding. The box was all metal save for the window at the end, and his claustrophobia was already starting to act up. The attendant pushed on the handle, sliding the box into the wall-

_a bottle had broken. Chris had been cleaning the table and the bottle had fallen off and hit the floor, shattering. Chris had jumped at the unexpected sound, and then again when his father had come in from the bedroom, intoxicated and furious over having been woken up. He'd hit Chris multiple times, and when he'd fallen over he'd kicked him again and again in the chest, before finally grabbing his legs and dragging him into the duct. Chris was to hurt to move his head, and was looking up as the ceiling and light disappeared, overtaken by the darkness and terror of the duct-_

Chris's hands shot up and grabbed the wall, shoving the compartment back out. The attendant looked up in surprise. Chris sat up and started climbing out.

"You need to stay in the pod-" started the attendant, but Chris cut him off.

"I can't. If i go in there, I won't be able to breathe, and it'll be dark and..and.. three hundred years is a long time...I can't do this, it's not happening, I can't I can't I can't..." Chris was babbling now, and tears were starting to well up in his eyes but it didn't matter he wasn't going in the pod, he couldn't...

"I understand you're afraid, but it's really..." the attendant started again, but another voice cut him off.

"Is there a problem here?" Chris didn't look up, he was focusing on his breathing. Spots were forming in front of his eyes. Then two gads gently were placed on hi shoulders. Chris looked up, and saw the Asian man who'd registered him- Tenzin's- concerned face.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Chris shook his head, he couldn't speak.

"Ok. What's worrying you?" Tenzin asked.

"The..the pod. I can't be in there," Chris said, a little breathlessly.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Tenzin asked. 

"My dad, he used to...he'd put me in the air-conditioning ducts. It was so dark and I'd be in there for days...and we're going to be in there for twelve years! More than that! I can't do it." Chris hung his head in defeat. He had a chance at a new world and a new life and he couldn't overcome one thing. Tenzin was still for a moment, but then pulled Chris into a hug. Unsure if what to do, Chris hugged him back.

"Shh...shh, it's ok," Tenzin whispered. Tenzin was very warm, and his white uniform was soft. Chris let himself relax, and ,slowly, his heart stopped racing. Tenzin pulled back a bit.

"Feeling calmer?" Chris nodded.

"Ok. Now I want you to know I personally tested the cryo pods. When I went to sleep in one I was in for eight years. It felt like a moment. I actually asked why they'd pulled me out early right afterwards," Tenzin said. Chris smiled, and then the nervousness came back.

"But its just like the ducts..."

"How about this? Could you stay in there for ten seconds?" Tenzin asked. Chris's look of confusion must have been hilarious, because Tenzin laughed. Itw as a beautiful sound, deep and rich.

"Here's what we'll do. When you lie down, we''ll count down from ten. By the time you fall asleep we'll be at about three, and when you open them again we'll count back down from there together. Sound good?" Tenzin asked. Chris nodded, a little uncertain. Tenzin guide him back to the pod, and Chris lay back. Tenzin stood above him.

"Promise?" asked Chris.

"I'll be right here when you wake up. You ready?" Chris took a deep breath. 

"Ten," he said.

"Nine," said Tenzin.

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

Chris felt the drawer slide forward, and heard Tenzin say 

"Five."

Then the drawer clicked shut. Chris turned his head and looked out the window. Tenzin's smiling face leaned in from behind the glass. Chris had time to mouth "Three," before he felt a jet of cool vapor and then he closed his eyes.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so the story will be expanded, and characters will be further explained.  
> Also, Tenzin is a real name, I did not make it up. Its origin and significance will be explained as the story progresses.


End file.
